eternal evidence of our awkward domesticity
by particularly good finder
Summary: "Are you…are you afraid of the dark?" Finn asked, trying to hold back laughter. "Because hiding under your blankets probably isn't the best solution for that."


**I have no idea. Enjoy!**

"Dear god, the weather's horrible. There is _no_ way I'm going to Rachel's 'super-awesome-fun' summer rehearsal," Kurt muttered, brushing his bangs to the side as he stared out of the living room window. Raindrops pelted the glass like bullets, threatening to break through and ruin Kurt's hair at any minute.

"She'll be mad if we don't go. You _know_ no one else will show up," Finn said grudgingly from the couch. In a quieter voice he added, "I hope mom makes it home okay."

Kurt sighed, sitting primly on the couch's arm next to his almost-stepbrother. "Dad called a couple of minutes ago. They pulled into a restaurant an hour away and are going to wait out the storm there. _It's too dangerous to drive_," he added pointedly at the end, pointing his finger at Finn.

The taller boy sighed. "Rachel's house isn't that far."

Kurt scoffed. "Do _you_ want to drive us, then?"

Finn shook his head vigorously, remembering the time he ran over the mailman. He would get them killed for sure.

"Then quit whining about your girlfriend's feelings," Kurt snapped. He loved his brother to death, but having to put up with his constant chatter about Rachel was enough to drive a person insane.

Finn grunted in reply, pulling out his phone to text said girlfriend. Kurt left him in peace and walked into the kitchen, grabbing a banana for dinner. After repeated comments from Coach Sylvester about his hips, Kurt was on a diet. Again.

"Hey, you wanna order takeout?" Finn called from the living room. Kurt walked back into the living room, peeling the banana.

"Are you a sadist or something?" He asked, brandishing the piece of fruit towards his brother. Finn paled.

"I-I don't worship the devil!"

Kurt laughed, gracefully settling down next to Finn. "That's _Satanist_, Finn. I called you a _sadist_. That means you enjoy watching other people suffer."

Finn sputtered, his face regaining some of its color. "I-I-I don't-!"

The slender boy chuckled, patting his brother on the arm. "I just meant that you must be a sadist for wanting to put a poor delivery boy through the torture of driving here."

Finn sighed, nodding. "Oh. Okay, I get it now. I guess you're right; we shouldn't do that to the kid…unless Matt's working tonight. Then we should." He laughed lightly.

"Besides," Kurt said after taking a small bite from his banana, "This _is _my dinner."

Finn looked horrified. "You're not…anorexic, are you? 'Cause Quinn went through a phase like that before we started dating. I remember she wouldn't eat anything…it was bad…"

The slender boy shook his head. "No, just trying to lose my 'pear hips', as Coach called them so eloquently."

This didn't seem to calm Finn down at all. "Your hips don't look like pears! Why are you trying to lose weight?"

Kurt sighed, crossing his legs. "Have you ever tried standing next to Santana and Brittany with their perfect bodies and listen to Coach tell them they're ugly? When they're not perfect, it's hard to feel beautiful."

Finn practically growled. "They _are_ beautiful, and so are you. Coach is a bitch."

"That's sweet, Finn. But you know Coach bugs the houses of all her Cheerios, so you just earned yourself a lifetime of horror," Kurt said nonchalantly, taking another bite of his banana.

The taller boy paled again. "Oh, shit…I mean-I mean…Coach Sylvester is awesome! I _love_ Coach Sylvester! Please, don't eat me! Sue Sylvester is a goddess!"

He looked over to see Kurt doubled over laughing, phone in hand. "I was kidding, Finn. As far as I know, she hasn't bugged the house."

Finn gaped. "You didn't film that, _did you_?" Kurt waggled his eyebrows suggestively.

"Maybe I did, maybe I didn't." Finn was starting to look confused, so the slender boy added, "Okay, I did. And Mercedes says, 'LOL luv that boi' by the way. She seems to think it was funny, too."

"You, Kurt Hummel, are evil," Finn said, scowling. The smaller boy just winked, taking another bite of his dinner. Finn left the room, returning a minute later with a camera in hand.

Kurt gave him a funny look, pausing with his teeth on the fruit. "What?" He asked, licking his lips.

Finn shrugged, holding up the camera. "There's something weirdly erotic about you eating fruit. Is it 'cause you're gay?"

The smaller boy choked on his banana. Tears formed in his eyes as he coughed violently, and Finn just laughed, catching it _all_ on film.

"I-" Cough. "-am going-" Cough. "-to _kill_ you-" Cough. Finn set down the camera and pounded his almost-stepbrother on the back.

"Well, now that you've lost your appetite for fruit, let's eat some real food, 'kay?" Finn pulled Kurt up, dragging him into the kitchen.

"God damn you, Finn Hudson," the smaller boy said, wheezing. "You better get cooking, because I'm not doing it."

Finn grinned and pulled out a frying pan. "Gladly, my brother."

Kurt frowned. "This is going straight to my thighs, isn't it?"

From somewhere inside the refrigerator Finn's voice called, "Probably. But you're too skinny anyways!"

The smaller boy smiled, sitting down at the kitchen counter. "So, what will we be dining on tonight, Mr. Hudson?"

"You'll see," Finn said with a wink. Kurt sighed and left the room, grabbing his camera. When he returned to the kitchen, he was met with the indescribable sight of Finn Hudson in an apron.

"Oh, my Gaga…" Kurt muttered, eyes wide. Not only was Finn Hudson in an apron, but his mother's pink, _frilly_ apron.

"Grilled cheese time! It's, like, the only thing I can cook without burning the house down…Are you filming this?" Finn pouted, pulling out Mr. Hummel's secret stash of Wonderbread.

"Finn, you're in an apron. _Of course_ I'm filming this." Kurt replied, a Cheshire grin spreading across his face. "Pink is _definitely_ your color."

"Oh, shut up," the taller boy muttered, slapping slices of American cheese on the bread. Kurt ducked into the fridge, pulling out a tomato and handing it to Finn.

"Here. Put a slice on each sandwich." Finn grimaced. "It will satisfy your childish palate, I promise."

"But that will make it, like, healthy."

"Vegetables never killed anyone, Finn."

"What about E. Coli?"

"Touché. But still, the nutritional value will do you some good."

"If you say so…" Finn said, pulling out a knife to slice the tomato with. "And aren't tomatoes fruit anyways?"

Kurt sighed. "Oh, be quiet."

Finn grinned, greasing up the pan and setting it on the stove. Grabbing the sandwiches, he turned on the small radio that rested above the sink.

"_Don't call my name.__Don't call my name, Alejandro_."

Kurt gasped and set the still-recording camera on the counter, shaking his hips to the music. Finn laughed, pulling out a spatula.

"_I'm not your babe.__I'm not your babe, Fernando_."

Kurt shimmied past Finn, winking suggestively. Finn looked slightly uncomfortable, but laughed anyways. He turned back to the stove, flipping the sandwiches over as the kitchen filled with the scent of grease and cheese.

"_Ale-Alejandro. Ale-Alejandro._" Finn flipped the sandwiches again, singing along.

"I thought you didn't like Lady Gaga," Kurt said, still dancing to the beat.

"I don't. But you sing it enough that I know the words." The taller boy swayed awkwardly to the music as well, dancing in his own, clumsy, _Finn_ way.

"Well, I'm just trying to culture you." Finn laughed at that, giving his cute little butt a shake.

Kurt danced up to Finn again as the taller boy dumped the sandwiches onto a plate, grabbing them from him and carrying them to the table. He shimmied again, setting the plate down.

"_You know that I love you boy. Hot like Mexico, rejoice._" Finn surprised both of them by grabbing Kurt's hand and twirling the smaller boy in a circle. Kurt giggled nervously, dancing dizzily to his seat.

"You know, I think we just caught all of that on video, my brother." Finn laughed, taking a bite of his sandwich.

Kurt just rolled his eyes, winking in the direction of the camera. They ate in silence for a few moments, both relishing the hot, greasy food (though Kurt would never admit it). A crash of lightening flashed outside of the window and the lights went out with a crash.

"Shit!" Finn shouted, dropping his sandwich. They were plunged in total darkness, save for the faint light of Kurt's camera and the flashing lights of the storm outside. "Stay here, I'll go find us a flashlight."

Feeling his way out of the kitchen (and tripping a couple of times) Finn found his way upstairs and into Mr. Hummel's bedroom, where a flashlight sat nicely on a shelf. Running back down to the kitchen, Finn waved the light happily, ready to finish his meal.

"Kurt?" He asked, confused when he found the kitchen empty. Grabbing the camera from the counter, Finn searched the house until he found his brother in their basement bedroom, curled under his covers.

"Kurt, man, you okay?" Finn asked, setting the camera and flashlight on their dresser.

"Just tired, Finn." Kurt squeaked from under his blankets.

"Are you…are you afraid of the dark?" Finn asked, trying to hold back laughter. "Because hiding under your blankets probably isn't the best solution for that."

When Kurt didn't answer, Finn lifted the covers a bit to find his prim and proper stepbrother curled into the fetal position, eyes clamped shut.

"Kurt…" Finn awkwardly knelt down next to the bed. "Are you really afraid of the dark?"

Kurt whimpered a little. "Do you remember that time, in seventh grade, when they found that kid who had been locked in a janitor's closet and forced to spend the night at the school?"

Finn nodded, vaguely remembering some of his basketball teammates bragging about locking a loser in a closet and not getting caught. "What does that have to-?"

"That was me, Finn."

The taller boy felt bile rising in his throat, and clenched his fists. Kurt continued, "Ever since then I've been terrified of the dark. Before you moved in, I always kept the bathroom light on. Now, though…well, I guess it helps to have another person in the room."

Finn took his brother's hand, biting his lip. "Kurt, I'm so sorry…"

Kurt opened his eyes slightly. "It's okay. Just…don't videotape this, okay?"

The taller boy grinned half-heartedly. The kid had been through so much…and Finn felt oddly guilty about all of it. Suddenly, an idea came to him, and he pulled Kurt from the safety of his bed.

"Come on! I know what will make you feel better." He dragged his almost-stepbrother up two flights of stairs, until they reached Mr. Hummel's room.

"Finn, what-?" Kurt started, but stopped when he saw Finn open the drawers to the broken dresser.

"Come here," Finn commanded softly, sitting on the ground by the dresser. Kurt sat next to him, curling into his brother's side as another crash of thunder sounded from outside. "Just close your eyes," Finn's voice was quiet and peaceful, and Kurt felt drowsy and warm listening to it. "And breathe…" Kurt's eyes drooped and he inhaled the scent of his mother and the scent of Finn mixed together _wonderfully_.

Together they reclined back onto the floor, Kurt still curled against Finn's side. The storm seemed quieter, and the dark seemed much less dark as the smaller boy felt himself drift off to sleep.

As soon as Kurt was out, Finn closed the dresser drawers and lifted the small boy into his arms. Careful not to wake him, Finn carried his brother down the stairs into their bedroom, setting him gently onto his bed. The rain seemed to be letting up a little, so he knew their parents would be home soon.

Kurt smiled softly in his sleep, curling like kitten in warm sunlight. Finn laughed to himself and grabbed the camera from the dresser. Kurt looked so innocent and _un-Kurt-like_ when he slept, and Finn wanted video evidence.

An hour later Burt Hummel and Carole Hudson came home to no power and a half-eaten meal for two in the kitchen, no sons in sight. Assuming they were in their bedroom playing video games or bickering or something, the parents walked down the stairs to the basement.

Carole "aww-ed" and Burt grunted, and both quickly left the sleeping boys alone. Finn shifted slightly, arms wrapping tighter around Kurt's waist as the smaller boy used his chest as a pillow.

"Your son has turned mine into a softy, Burt. Go figure," Carole said, giggling.

"And yours got mine to shut up. Miracles, all around."


End file.
